Time seems to almost stand still in a hospital

There are two places – besides moments when your favorite team is trying to hold a lead late in a game – where time literally seems to stand still.

One is in airports. The glazed look on the eyes of would-be passengers waiting for the signal to board their flight is unmistakeable.

The other is in hospitals. Anyone who has sat bedside for a sick relative knows it’s a ‘hurry-up and wait’ situation.

If someone tells you the doctor will see you in an hour, it means at least two or three. If another person says the patient’s supper is coming at 5:30 p.m., it’ll be 6:30-to-7 before it arrives.

That’s not a knock on how hard folks are working at those locales – it’s just part of the deal.

At a hospital, when you glance at a clock, they seem locked in place. The old chestnut ‘a watched pot never boils’ comes to mind.

Having experienced the impatience recently that goes with staying in a room with a bed-ridden family member, I know of what I speak. No matter what’s on the TV, how comfortable (or not) the seats provided for those sitting vigil in a room, or how sweet and cheerful the nurses and hospital personnel may be, it doesn’t change things.

The clock simply moves slower.

That’s why when friends, co-workers, pastors, fellow church members and other family come by to visit, it means something. Besides the obvious concern about the hospitalized individual, all know the tension and uncertainty that goes with the territory. It’s nice to have people to share it with.

A few years back, my brother-in-law was at Duke for about 10 months or so waiting for a heart transplant. I visited with him and my sister a couple of times there. Beyond the joy that came with receiving a new heart, I thought both deserved medals simply for being there that long and maintaining their sanity.

Believing that doesn’t diminish the appreciation for doctors, nurses, technicians, and other caregivers during such medical stays. It’s not easy for any one to deal with sickness, pain and death – much less as part of their daily occupation.

Because of the worry that naturally goes with being connected to someone admitted to a hospital, the clock issue will remain. So much is at stake, the ‘tick-tock’ will always be frustrating.

And in those rare, extreme instances when we say goodbye to someone we love, looking back, those brief additional seconds -- that were either real or imagined -- we shared with them turn out to be golden in our memories.